


Electric Light

by holyhael



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/F, Femslash, Fucking Machines, Past Finn Collins/Clarke Griffin, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, femslash kink meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-30
Updated: 2015-11-30
Packaged: 2018-05-04 03:04:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5318060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holyhael/pseuds/holyhael
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A million thoughts cross Clarke’s attention all at once, but the one she voices is actually the furthest from her mind. “We’re in the middle of a war, and you build a - a mechanical dildo.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Electric Light

**Author's Note:**

> for [femslash kink meme](http://femslash-kink.dreamwidth.org/15813.html?thread=2054853#cmt2054853)
> 
> the title comes from bush's machinehead because, well

Clarke runs her fingers along the shaft of the machine. It’s covered in a blue silicon that’s cool to the touch and textured in a way that makes her bite her lip. The shaft is so much bigger than any penis she’s ever seen (but to be fair, the only one she’s ever seen is Finn’s).

“You made this?” It’s not really a question, just a statement of awe. She forces her gaze up from the machine and into Raven’s eyes.

Raven wears a proud smirk. “Yeah. Didn’t take too long, either. Made it from parts of the drop ship and a car.”

“Did you find the… dildo in the drop ship, too?” The word is unfamiliar on her tongue, but just saying it aloud brings her attention between her legs. She doesn’t know how to describe the feeling settling there; all she knows is this _excites_ her, and she doesn’t know why.

This is a machine, after all. It’s cold and unforgiving. It doesn’t feel, and it doesn’t care about her. It’s the exact opposite of everything she loves about Raven.

“Nah. I made a cast, poured some silicon in it, and _presto_.” Raven swings forward on her crutches. Since she built herself a new leg, she only uses crutches when she’s been on her feet for a long time. Clarke wonders when she last took a break. “What do you think?”

A million thoughts cross Clarke’s attention all at once, but the one she voices is actually the furthest from her mind. “We’re in the middle of a war, and you build a - a mechanical dildo.” Once again, excitement hums in her core.

“You’ve gotta relax somehow.” Raven smiles crookedly. “Now, do you want to help me test it out?”

“Now?!”

Raven shrugs. “If you’ve got some free time. I’m game whenever.”

Clarke glances back at the machine. She really shouldn’t. She should be going over tactical plans with Major Bryne in less than an hour. That prospect is a lot less appealing than the one Raven just put in front of her, though.

Squaring her shoulders, Clarke looks back up at Raven. “How does it work?”

Raven’s smirks. “That’s my girl.” She lays her crutches against the table behind her, then turns back to Clarke and the machine. She’s a little wobbly on one leg, but she fights not to let it show. Her palms come down on the counter beside the fucking machine, then she uses one hand to point at the mechanics of the machine. “See this? It’s a-”

“Raven,” Clarke says. Raven stops. “ _Show_ me.”

Raven’s grin grows even larger. “With pleasure. Come on, hop up.”

Clarke hops onto the table in front of the machine, and as Raven starts to tinker with the piston, she shimmies out of her pants and her underwear. The table’s chill sinks into her ass and her shoulders, but the heat burning in her when she thinks about what’s about to happen keeps her warm. She pulls her knees up and spreads them apart, presenting herself to Raven.

Looking down the length of herself, Clarke sees the head of the dildo and the bulk of machinery behind it. Raven rummages around the cupboards beneath the table; when she finds what she’s looking for, she lets out an _aha!_

“Knew it couldn’t have gotten far,” Raven says. She straightens up and places the tub of lube next to Clarke’s toes. Clarke lays her head down on the table, and suddenly not being able to see anything that’s about to happen excites her even more. She swallows around nerves in her throat, feels her heart racing in her chest.

Raven touches Clarke’s ankle, wrapping her fingers around it. “Ready, princess?”

Clarke tries to nod, but in her current position, it’s difficult. She licks her lips. “Yeah.”

Even knowing it’s coming, when Raven’s fingers first alight on the inside of her thigh, Clarke startles and gasps. Raven’s fingers are cool and wet; they slide along the flesh between Clarke’s vagina and the crook of her thigh, running in a smoothing up and down motion. The touch is _so close_ to Clarke’s vagina, but not close enough.

“Ugh,” Clarke moans.

Raven’s a spitfire and a half, but in the rare moments of peace she and Clarke cultivate with each other, she slows down enough to appreciate the small things: the way Clarke’s back arcs toward the sky, the way she twitches and gasps from the lightest of tender touches. It’s written all over her face.

She’s fascinated, too. She watches Clarke with awe, her gaze never straying far. And she’s smart. Her dexterity knows no bounds. Though she works mostly with machines, she knows exactly how Clarke’s body works and how to tinker with it, like Clarke is nothing but clockwork.

But she’s never treated Clarke the person as if she were a machine. She has always been passionate and caring. And sometimes she’ll let the walls she’s built around herself down; Clarke lives for those moments.

Clarke is achingly wet already when Raven slides a finger into her vagina, feeling along her inner walls. Eyes closed and mouth open, Clarke lets Raven spread her open with her fingers. Sometimes, Raven brushes her thumb over Clarke’s clit, and when she does that, Clarke can’t help but lift her ass off the table’s surface. Raven always pushes her back down.

Hot breath blows against her thigh, and that’s the only warning she gets before Raven’s mouth is on her. She sucks Clarke’s lip into her mouth with a nibble of teeth.

“Fuck, Raven,” Clarke gasps. Her hands find the back of Raven’s head, and she pushes her closer. Raven responds by licking upward until her tongue is flat against Clarke’s clit, then her lips contract into a pucker, and she sucks. Her fingers continue to stroke in and out of Clarke’s cunt.

Clarke has almost forgotten the real treat of the afternoon until Raven pulls off.

“Think you’re ready?” Raven asks. Clarke raises her head and opens her eyes; Raven’s mouth is glistening with Clarke’s wetness.

Weakly, Clarke props herself up on her elbows and gestures Raven to come forward, and Raven does. Clarke pulls Raven down to kiss her. It’s strangely erotic to taste herself on Raven’s lips. She licks her way into Raven’s warm, inviting mouth, licks the juices off her chin.

“Hold on,” Raven says as she pulls away. Clarke wants to protest, but then Raven is hoisting herself onto the table so she can straddle Clarke’s middle, Clarke’s folded legs acting like a chair back. This position is much better for both of them, but Raven especially.

“Is your leg-”

“I’m fine.”

Raven silences any words Clarke would have retaliated with by sealing their lips together. A bite of teeth surprises Clarke, but she realizes she’s been lulled into false security. Raven enjoys teeth and nails and bruises; so Clarke does something useful with her hands and grips Raven’s shoulders. Her nails are too short to do much damage, but Raven gasps all the same.

“Take off your pants,” Clarke demands, her voice low and husky.

Raven straightens up. “Yes, ma’am,” she says with a grin. She lifts off her shirt first, and after throwing it and her bra carelessly to another part of the room, she awkwardly removes her pants. Now wearing nothing but her underwear, she sits proudly over Clarke.

“That’s more like it,” Clarke says. She drops one hand off of Raven’s shoulders and pets the wet fabric of her underwear. Raven groans, throwing her head back.

“Don’t you want to try our new toy?”

“Yeah,” Clarke says, but she doesn’t stop her fingers from curling under Raven’s panties and finding her clit beneath her wild range of pubic hair. Raven sharply inhales, enticing Clarke to grin.

“Fuck.” Raven bites her lip until it’s pale. She pins Clarke to the table by her shoulders; her short nails dig into the fabric of Clarke’s shirt. “Why do you still have this on?”

“Take it off for me.”

Raven obeys enthusiastically. She grabs the bottom hem and pulls up and over Clarke’s head. Clarke has to pull her hand out of Raven’s panties so the shirt can be completely removed and cast aside. She has every intention of returning her attention to Raven’s clit, but before she can do so, Raven twists around.

“Hold on,” she says. Something drags across the surface of the table: the machine. Clarke feels her pussy pulse with desire, and suddenly she wonders why it’s taken them so long to get the device to penetrate her.

Raven situates herself so that her back is now facing Clarke. Clarke watches her elbow move as she lubes up the dildo with the same motion one would use to jack a cock off.

“You ready?” Raven asks, turning her head around to meet Clarke’s eyes.

“Yeah. Oh, wait. What time is it?”

With a frown, Raven looks beyond Clarke. “We’ve got half an hour.”

“Okay, then. Make it count.”

Raven grins in a sultry manner. “As you wish.”

Spreading Clarke’s lips with her fingers, Raven pulls the machine closer and closer until the head of the thing pierces Clarke’s cunt. Even with the shallow penetration, Clarke realizes it feels thicker than it looks; if this is the case, then how long is it going to feel, when it already looks fairly long? Clarke trembles with excitement.

“Okay, I’m going to start it now,” Raven warns. “We’ll start slow.”

Clarke doesn’t have time to gather her words before the machine buries itself deeper inside her, her pussy accepting it easily. She gasps as she feels its incredible length inside of her, and she feels like she could come just on the sensation of something so foreign filling her up. Her heart pounds like thunder, and the machine whirrs like its storm.

“Not too big or anything?”

Clarke is already a little too far gone to really focus on Raven, but she’s aware enough that Raven has turned around again. “No. No, this is perfect.”

“Good.” There’s a smirk in Raven’s voice. “Okay, I’m going to turn it up a little.”

Clarke’s ever-tense muscles melt; her shoulders sink into the table. For the first time in a long time, she feels relaxed, free of her burdens. The only things occupying her mind are Raven and her machine.

The machine is fluid, its rhythm maddeningly even. Clarke scratches at the sides of the table but finds no purchase for her nails. She gasps and gasps and says Raven’s name a thousand times.

“I’m going to turn it up a notch,” Raven says. Clarke bites her lip and nods as best she can. The pace the machine is going now is quite sedentary, at least compared to the experience she’s had before. How fast can this machine truly go? Can she take it?

Clarke doesn’t know if Raven pushes buttons or turns a knob or loosens a joint, but by the time Raven is turning around to face her front to Clarke’s, the machine has picked up its pace. Raven’s ponytail bobs and sways with the tempo, and her small tits bounce up and down. Clarke tries to focus on the sight of her, because she’s afraid to lose herself completely to this machine just yet.

Sounding out of breath, Raven suggests, “Eat me out?”

Of course Clarke isn’t going to say no.

After quickly divesting herself of her underwear, Raven draws herself closer to Clarke’s face, knees braced on either side of Clarke’s shoulders. The thick, musky smell of Raven fills Clarke’s nose as Raven descends upon her. Clarke holds onto her legs, and Raven doesn’t even protest her touching her stump. Clarke’s thumb smooths over the jagged edges of the badly-healed wound, and her fingers touch perfect flesh. She tries to convey through this touch alone that Raven is okay.

There are so many words wrapped up in that small okay, but none of them quite fit well enough: complete, amazing, just as good. Instead, it is just _okay_.

She never knows if Raven can hear the words behind these touches; if she can, she doesn’t show it.

Raven grinds down on Clarke’s mouth. She tastes just as dark and husky as she smells, and she’s incredibly wet, too. Clarke licks inside of her, plays with her labia, and all-around savors Raven Reyes the way she deserves to be savored.

The machine continues to fuck into Clarke at a relentless, ravenous pace. She twitches and squirms until it strikes such a cord within her that she can’t do anything but gasp into Raven’s cunt.

“You okay?” Raven asks.

Clarke hums. Her entire body is lit up with electric light. Raven backs off enough for Clarke to say, “I think I’m getting close.”

“Yeah? Me too.”

“Touch my clit,” she says desperately, sure that will be the final spark that ignites her to orgasm.

Reaching back behind her, Raven cups her hand over Clarke’s vulva, but instead of rubbing her clit, Raven fingers around Clarke’s lips and feels for herself the smooth fiction of the dildo pumping in and out of Clarke’s cunt. And Clarke was wrong: she didn’t need her clit to be touched; she just needed to be touched by Raven. Like a warm tide, pleasure washes through every fiber in her body and makes her cry out. The dildo continues to drive into her through her orgasm, and after, when she feels sated and used and happy, it is still thrusting into her. Clarke lies there and takes it.

Raven rides her mouth until she comes as well. A fresh wave of wetness flows into Clarke’s mouth, and she makes an effort to swallow as much as she can; still, most of it dribbles down her cheeks. Raven may not squirt, but she makes a damn flood.

Clarke licks her until Raven shivers and backs away. Her jaw aches, and her groin aches, but she’s still floating on a euphoric cloud without a thought to come down.

“You want me to turn it off?”

Part of her wants to tell Raven no, but if she doesn’t, she knows she’ll have trouble walking later. Already she feels like she’s been thoroughly wrung and abused. She croaks, “Yeah.”

“Okay, hold on.” Raven turns around, painting a smear of her juices over Clarke’s abdomen. When the machine stops, it stops with half of its length still inside of Clarke’s cunt, and now without the rhythmic flow of it pushing and pulling, she feels empty and lost.

Slipping onto the floor, Raven pushes the dildo further away until Clarke is free. Clarke hops off of the table but has to bear her weight onto it still when her knees refuse to hold her. She laughs. “That was amazing.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re amazing, Raven.”

Raven doesn’t meet Clarke’s eyes even though it feels like Clarke could burn her with the intensity of her gaze. She acts so blasé with her sardonic smile, and Clarke just wants to shake some sense into her.

“Really.”

Raven gives her a smirk, but Clarke can tell she still doesn’t quite believe her.

Clarke helps Raven get dressed first. She has to walk around the entire room to find everything, and along the way she grabs up her own clothes. The smell of their affair permeates the air. Even though this thing happening between her and Raven isn’t exactly a secret, Clarke still hopes nobody comes in until the smell has aired out.

When they’re both clothed, Clarke checks the time on her watch, which she keeps in her pocket. She only has five minutes until her meeting with Major Bryne.

“Your zipper’s down,” Raven says, jerking her chin down.

“Oh. Well, your jacket’s inside out.”

“That would’ve been your fault,” Raven reminds her. Clarke rolls her eyes, but she helps Raven pull the jacket off and then back on again, this time correctly worn. Of course, Raven doesn’t need the help, but she allows Clarke to, which is a miracle Clarke is grateful for.

She runs her palms down Raven’s arms, as if dusting her off or smoothing creases in the sleeves - any excuse to stay together for a moment longer.

“We should use that again sometime,” Clarke says. “I’d love to see you use it.”

Raven grins. “Yeah, definitely.” She reaches over for her crutches and positions them in her armpits.

“But next time you decide to tinker,” Clarke leans in close to whisper, “You should build something that vibrates.”

The hunger and calculation in Raven’s expression makes Clarke want to push her over the table and go for another round. But duty calls. She only kisses Raven’s lips chastely before turning to leave.

Before she closes the door behind her, she hears Raven rummaging through her workspace.

 


End file.
